


Chosen

by autumnstwilight (sewohayami)



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Backstory, Link's father, abusive parenting, not compliant with DLC or Master Works canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-02-23 12:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13190196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sewohayami/pseuds/autumnstwilight
Summary: What does it mean to be chosen? Do the gods handpick their favored from birth, endowing them with the skill and courage to face their destiny? Or is courage something that can only be shown in the pits of darkness and terror, when the heavens are most silent?An exploration of a possible path for BotW!Link prior to drawing the Master Sword. As I have another ongoing work, the plan and update schedule for this is officially "whatever the hell I feel like". Tags and warnings will be added going forward.





	1. Chapter 1

_ The silver face of the girl appeared in his dreams, solemn as always. She simply watched him, never approaching, never retreating, her expression unchanging. His young hands itched to reach out for her purple cloak, so bright and shiny. But something stopped him from approaching her, perhaps the same force that she was bound with. As still and cold as a statue, she stood with the same gentle gaze. _

_ Someday, perhaps, she would speak to him. _

* * *

* * *

 

The red leaves of Akkala crunched under his boots as he made his way back to the cabin. The child’s path was meandering, as he wandered to step on as many leaves as possible before the rains came and they all went soggy. They wouldn’t crunch after the rain and that was no fun. A breath of wind ruffled his blond hair, bringing just a hint of the chill from the mountains.

The firewood he had gathered clattered against his back. He adjusted the cloth straps that held the bundle to his shoulders. At his hip was a drawstring bag of edible mushrooms he had gathered. Above him, the sky was dimming as the sun dipped behind a mountain. He picked up the pace a little as he made his way towards the plume of smoke rising from the cabin. His mother would scold him if he was not home before dark.

When he reached the log cabin, there was a horse tied outside. It was a large and imposing creature with dark fur. Cautiously, he reached for its nose and gave it a gentle pat. The animal snorted in response.

He had pulled up a clump of green grass and returned to the cabin to offer it to the horse when he heard voices from inside.

"- only just passed his fourth summer, he’s too young…" his mother spoke.

"It is not for you to decide, Ina. His training must commence…" came the voice of the guest.

They were interrupted by the boy opening the door. He shucked off his shoes near the entrance and deposited the bundle of wood in a crate by the fireplace. A fire was already crackling, casting orange light across the small room. The floorboards creaked as he rose to his feet. His mother sat by the table, wearing the same faded blue-grey as always. She spoke.

"Link. Come and sit at the table. We have a guest for dinner tonight."

The boy looked up at the strange man warily. He was tall with short-cropped blond hair and piercing blue eyes. The faint lines around them suggested he was perhaps a little older than the boy’s mother. His clothes were finer and richer than those worn by the boy or his mother, shades of navy and maroon edged with gold.

Link’s eyes wandered to the edge of the table, where a sword had been propped up, the silver crossguard glinting in the firelight.

“Does it interest you, boy? A man needs a sword by his side. Come with me, and I will make you a soldier.”

He looked up at the stranger’s face again, but before he could respond, his mother interjected.

“He doesn’t need a sword, Talin, for goddess’ sake. He needs to play, to read, to learn.”

That was true, the boy thought. His mother often read books with him, and he was beginning to read them himself, only needing help with a few words on each page. His mother pleaded.

“How can you come and take him away?”

The stranger harrumphed, “How can you keep him here? You say that he needs to play, but there isn’t another child his age within a half day’s travel. You say that he needs to learn, but all you have is a single shelf of battered books. In Castle Town, I can give him opportunities. Here, he will be nothing but a peasant.”

Link’s mother pursed her lips, “Perhaps we would not be peasants, if you were more generous with my allowance. Perhaps we would have more than a few battered books.”

“Hah! So it comes back to my money, Ina. I know you’re terribly disappointed I didn’t marry you when you got knocked up with the little bastard, but I’ve been a generous man. I set you up with a new home, made up a story to preserve your reputation. Even now, I send you enough for a living.”

“Barely,” muttered his mother.

There was mushroom and carrot stew on the table. Link didn’t understand what the two adults were talking about anymore, but their tone was making him uncomfortable. He was tired and hungry from his day of foraging, and so he dipped his spoon into the stew. It was warm and savory. The stranger also took a bite.

“Not bad at all. I suppose you learned a thing or two in the castle kitchens.”

It sounded like praise, but his mother stiffened. She had called this man a guest, but she was not treating him with the usual warmth she gave to travellers, inviting them in for a night’s rest and sending them on their way with a bellyful of simple but hearty fare. The man did not seem like a wanderer either. He was here for something, a purpose, but Link had no idea what that could be.

The man called Talin finished his stew, his spoon scraping noisily against the bottom of the bowl. He set the bowl back on the table, and turned to Link’s mother again.

“The Calamity is coming.”

Ina’s expression was frozen as she stared back at him.

“It is a fairy story, something to frighten children. Don’t tell me that-”

“It’s real. We have found the machines hidden by the Sheikah, exactly as described. Queen Selina senses it too. She has told us the goddess came to her with a warning. The public has not been told, it would cause needless panic. But, in a dozen years, give or take, the beast that has been sealed for thousands of years will break free. And, if we are not prepared, Hyrule will be stripped of life, down to the bedrock.” His voice rose as he spoke.

Ina continued to regard him coldly.

“And what does this have to do with my child? You sent him into the wilderness when it was inconvenient for you, and now you want him back. You must see some profit for yourself, or you would not be all the way out here.” She folded her arms.

Talin held his hands up in a disarming gesture. “I am Captain of the Royal Guard now. My responsibility is to recruit as many boys as I can to prepare for the coming war. It would not be just of me to spare my own progeny while asking others to make sacrifices.”

Ina glared at him, “Yet you ask me to make the same sacrifice. Admit it, this has nothing to do with fairness. You are hoping that this child, the one you  _ pretended didn’t exist, _ inherited some of your talent. I can see it now. If he becomes a successful knight under your tutelage, you will claim him as your own, as long as his skill is enough to wipe away the stain of his heritage. Otherwise he will end up as a messenger or stable-boy, and none will be the wiser.”

The man looked down at the table. “I always said you knew me too well.”

“Not well enough,” she hissed, “What a fool I was, to lie with a snake like you! If I had-”

The boy was staring at them over the edge of his soup bowl with wide eyes. He knew he wasn’t supposed to interrupt adults when they were talking, but he didn’t like the way this stranger spoke to his mother. Talin thumped  his fist on the table.

“Enough!”

He took a deep breath.

“Forget the past, Ina. The decision I am making is for now, and you know it is for the best. I am offering him a chance to make something of himself, a chance to train with the Royal Guard from the very beginning. The nobility offer all manner of gifts and flattery so that their boys may have the same opportunity. Would you have him give that up to scrounge in the mud for mushrooms all his life?”

Tears ran down Ina’s face as she trembled in silent rage. Yet she said nothing. Finally, she raised her face to the ceiling and took a deep breath, as though she were trying to stop the tears coming. She composed herself, and fixed her stern gaze on the man again.

“Fine. I won’t stop him from leaving. I won’t keep him away from the castle. But you have barely said a word to him since you arrived. Don’t you think you should at least offer him the choice?” Her voice shook.

“He will not understand the choice. Even a boy ten years older would not be able to appreciate the consequences, the difference between a life in Akkala and the castle. But, as a token of my affection, dear Ina, I will humor you.”

The strange man reached for his sword. Holding the scabbard, he pointed to the boy with the ornate silver hilt. Link had never seen anything like it in his life, so different to the simple knives he and his mother used to chop vegetables and meat. The metal gleamed, a sheen that would fascinate any young boy. He looked at his mother, as if asking for approval, but she avoided his gaze. He looked back at the grip of the weapon.

“Go on,” the man said, “Take it. Take it, and you will be a soldier. You will come with me to the castle, and you will learn the sword and the bow, and serve the royal family of Hyrule. You will see castles and princesses and perhaps even dragons. But first, you must take this weapon.”

His small hand curled around the grip, the metal sucking the warmth from his skin. He pulled the blade a few inches from its sheath, enough to expose the mirror sheen of the metal. In the sword, he thought he saw the face of the silver girl for just a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know canonically Link was apparently in the Zora's Domain and capable of winning a fight with a grown man at age four, but... have the game developers ever met a four year old? Not to mention he would have had to start training at, what, two or three? Canon is silly on this point and I have elected to ignore it. Though we will get to Zora's Domain eventually.


	2. Chapter 2

He had not known the choice he was making.

Somewhere along the long road, when the rolling hills and red leaves of Akkala had passed out of view, he realised that he would not be returning. The cold wind kicked up the dust at the horse’s feet, and the stranger was almost completely silent, except for when he spurred the horse on with a gruff "Hah!"

Link looked down at the mane of the horse, streaked brown and black, and balled his fists in it. Inside him, something far and distant wanted to cry, but an odd solemnity overcame him. He sensed that crying would not change anything, and felt a curious instinct to impress this stranger, to show that he too could be a tough soldier. At length, the swaying of the horseback lulled him into sleep.

That had been then and this was now. Summers and winters had passed since he came here. He had cried many times since, in the dustiest corners behind the oldest crates and on the rooftops where no one would see him. He had cried when his body ached and when his fingers blistered and bled. He had cried when he had fallen ill with a fever and longed for his mother to comfort him, as he lay on a thin straw mat in a drafty room. He had cried when he was tired and hungry and the older boys had kicked over the buckets of water he was meant to give to the horses, so that he was forced to make another weary trip to the well and miss dinner.

Today he had choked back tears as a blow from Captain Talin’s wooden sword had caught him in the side and ribcage. The Captain took a special interest in him, and often singled him out for further training after the other cadets were allowed to go and clean up. He didn’t know why he received these corrections more than anyone else. No matter how attentively he focused, or how dutifully he obeyed, the dreaded, softly spoken order would come.

"Link. You stay."

There had been fury in his strike, as he swung at the Captain’s midsection, an opening that he threw himself at like a wildcat. And again, his sword had been halted a hair’s breadth from the man, the opening a lure too tempting to resist, the counterattack sending him sprawling into the dust, stinging, humiliating. Again.

And he had risen to his feet, bowed and spoke the customary thank you for the sparring session, marched away with the posture of a royal guard, just a little too quickly. It was not until he reached the well and drew water, pulled his tunic over his head and looked at the red and purple band of broken blood vessels painted across his chest that he let the tears fall, bitter and hot.

The night sky was cold and clear above him, with only the thinnest band of orange remaining on the horizon. He wanted to scream but worried that someone would hear. He settled for finding a decently sized stone and kicking it along the ground, watching it skitter in the dust and taking a perverse joy in the pain in his toe. He looked around to check that he was still alone.

The courtyard shimmered, as if a cloud had passed across the moon. A silver shadow lingered by a far doorway, the girl’s gaze downcast. Cautiously, he approached her, as if she might blow away on the slightest stirring of the wind. He found himself nearing the armory when there was a mighty screech, and the crows in a nearby tree took flight, pursuing one of their own. He watched as the flurry of dark wings wheeled and settled back in the tree, croaking calls. When he looked back, the girl was gone, as he had known she would be.

But the door was open. He paused in confusion, wondering if it had been that way the whole time. With quiet footsteps, he entered, the slight gleam of the halberds on their racks the only light. These weapons were still far too big for him to wield effectively, even the broadswords were almost as long as he was tall. But as he ventured deeper into the storehouse, his eyes were drawn to a sidearm, a short dagger, the last resort of a soldier and the first of an assassin.

After a moment’s hesitation, he seized it.

Perhaps he had been expecting something to happen, but there was only the darkness around him and the quiet and the creeping awareness that he would very much be in trouble if he were found here. He slid the dagger inside his tunic, tight under the belt at his hip, and made his way to the dinner hall.

* * *

The next morning he awoke to find the dagger stowed carefully among his few personal possessions, hidden under clothing and rags. He regarded it with a mild surprise, perhaps not expecting that the events of the previous night had actually happened.

He looked at the weapon for a moment, unsure what to do with his plundered treasure. If anyone noticed it was missing, if anyone had the idea to check the dormitory of the youngest boys, if anyone thought to look for it in the bundle of dusty cloth at the foot of a particular boy’s sleeping mat… But he was determined to keep it. There was so little here to call his own. The secret sent an electric thrill through him, a quiet act of defiance in his life of obedience.

He imagined the feel of the metal in his hands. The image of the opening he had seen, the one the Captain had fooled him with, came to his mind. Would he be able to strike faster with the gleaming steel in his hands? Would he be able to take the Captain by surprise? He shook his head and banished the idle fantasy. He knew that there would be no way to wear the dagger that would both conceal it on his small frame and allow him to draw it fast enough for a sneak attack, let alone what he would do in the aftermath.

A messenger, a tall and wiry teenager threw open the door, panting heavily. His arrival woke the young cadets that were still sleeping. There was the running of footsteps and the slamming of doors up and down the rows, distant shouting. The messenger caught his breath.

"All cadets must report immediately to the courtyard for an urgent announcement! Up! Go!"

With bleary rubbing of eyes and hasty donning of clothing, they filed out of the dormitory. Link hurriedly stowed the dagger under his tunic and at his hip once more.

* * *

The morning courtyard was chill, ground still wet with dew. The children around him stood shivering and grumbling over the lack of breakfast. Occasionally, one of the teenagers wearing the fresh and still-crisp uniform of an initiate would bark at them to quieten down, or to form orderly lines. Further back, older trainees and guards engaged in muttered snippets of conversation. Finally, Captain Talin appeared before them.

“Noble warriors of the Royal Guard, and our cadets. It is my duty to inform you of the sad passing of Queen Selina.”

There was a grim silence among the adults, one that the children instinctively mimicked whether they understood it or not. The Captain continued to speak.

“She was taken ill several days ago, and passed in the early hours of this morning. For those of you who had the honor of guarding her personally, you will know this is a great loss. Not only for her great kindness and spirit, but the blood of the goddess that she carried, that which defends our lands.”

He paused to look across the gathered crowd.

“She is survived by her daughter, Her Royal Highness Princess Zelda of Hyrule. Though she is but a child, His Majesty the King has assured me that he will do everything in his power to assist his daughter in accessing the power of the Goddess, so that She may continue to defend our great kingdom. Praise be to Hylia.”

“Praise be,” intoned many of those present, though some were silent, whether it was from shock or disinterest in the Goddess, Link did not know.

“However. This is a time of great vigilance for us. Even now, the Yiga wait for a chink in the armor of the royal family. We must be that armor, and we must not fail. The Calamity is prophesied to return within our lifetimes. It may be ten years from now, it may be tomorrow morning. It matters not. Your lives are not your own, should the people need them. Remember that.”

The guards at the back and sides of the courtyard bowed and the cadets quickly followed before they could be punished for a breach in protocol. The Captain spoke no more, and the adults took that as a sign to begin filing out of the courtyard, most heading to the food hall. The children followed somewhat haphazardly.

With a last glance up at the stone walls before him, Link, too turned to leave. He could feel the cold damp of the ground even through his boots, and as he took a step, there was a pain in his shoulder as his arm was jerked back, broad fingertips digging into his forearm.

The captain spoke.

“Link. You stay here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm imagining Link as about 7 years old here.


	3. Chapter 3

He turned to face the man behind him.

The captain had aged slightly but perceptibly since that day in the cabin. The downward lines at the corners of his mouth were deeper, giving him a severe look. Here and there, there were streaks of silver in the gold of his close cropped hair and beard, though Link couldn’t say for sure if they had always been there. In contrast, his maroon uniform looked newer, if anything, with none of the dust and creases from a long ride to Akkala. Tall and broad, he looked the picture of a captain, and the scruffy boy in front of him every bit his underling.

"Go ahead. I’ll even stand here unarmed." His bared teeth resembled the expression of a wolf more than any grin.

Link stared up at him in confusion for a moment. Then, a gear slipped into place and his mind began to move. _ He knows, and I know… _

He bowed, and reached inside his tunic, withdrawing the dagger. The blade glinted as he removed it from the sheath. The captain watched him with a foreboding silence. He let the wooden sheath drop to the ground, and took a fighting stance. True to his word, the captain made no move. He tried to steady his breath, to still his shaking arms. The captain’s steady calmness, his seeming permissiveness, was no reassurance to him. He knew better.

An exhalation.

_ Now. _

His toes dug into the dust as he launched himself forward, dagger outstretched. It pierced nothing but air, as he had expected it would. But now he twisted sideways, an instinct in his body his eyes barely had time to follow the arc of the blade as the captain pivoted and threw himself backward. He felt the world recede, felt it stagger like jammed clockwork. There was the moment, stretched taut and shimmering. Fabric moved in slow motion, he saw how the light traced down the blade, and how it cut, how red flowed down. He was both distant and elated, a drumbeat pounding in his ear that he realized was his pulse as his feet landed-

-and the pain exploded everywhere. A shock traveled through his teeth and skull as his chin hit the ground, the dagger skittered across the ground as the rough dirt bit into the skin of his hands and arms. The footprint of the kick was like a sledgehammer across his back, reawakening his bruised ribs, and air seemed to escape him completely. Out of the corner of his eye he saw one of the maroon tails of the captain’s dress uniform flutter to the ground. It had all been so fast.

He whimpered, though he was trying desperately not to make a sound. Rising to his feet seemed out of the question, his breath came in a sob as he rolled onto his back, chest heaving against the bands of pain around his ribcage.

The captain stood silently, cocking his head for a moment. The toe of his boot traced across the ground, dragging the hard-won scrap of fabric out of the reach of Link’s fingertips. He reached down and picked it up, took the dagger and twirled it around his fingers. As he did, he spoke in a low voice.

“I will leave in one week, for Zora’s Domain. You will be ready, with your possessions, at dawn on that day.”

Link lay there until the receding footsteps had faded.

* * *

 

The queen’s funeral was held the next day, and the cadets were woken in the cold half-light to assist with preparations, on top of their usual chores. There were stables to be shoveled and horses to be groomed for the procession, and all manner of tasks to be done to ensure the true Royal Guard, whether teenage initiates or adult veterans, looked proper for the occasion. Link’s body ached in a dozen places as he slowly rolled over and dragged himself onto his hands and knees. The grazes on his palms still stung.

The handle of the bucket bit into his hands as he hauled water to the stables. Tomas, a slightly younger boy, was there hauling bales of hay. He was struggling to remove the top bale from the pile stacked high without bringing them all down on top of himself.

Link went to him and steadied the pile, scratchy bits of hay poking through his clothes, while the smaller boy retrieved the top bundle. Neither of them spoke, but there was a nod of appreciation, and Link gave a grin in return, before hurrying back to the well. 

He cleaned himself with a fresh bucket of water, careful to pick the odd bits of straw from his hair, and changed into what passed for his dress clothing. The youngest recruits, those who spent their time sweating over training and chores, were not provided with full dress uniforms, as they grew so fast and so rarely wore them. Instead, they had a simple navy tunic to wear over their gray training shirt and trousers when occasion demanded. His was still the same one he had been assigned when he arrived, it had hung past his knees then and was somewhat on the short side now. A tin badge stamped with the royal family’s crest completed the outfit.

Done with his preparations, he made his way to the main street that passed through Castle Town. The streets were lined with people and flowers already, and he could barely see the funeral procession passing. Unable to push through the crowd, he followed along the edges, catching glimpses here and there, the gilded carriage, the white horses and their heavy tack. Everything was beautiful, he had to remind himself that inside the carriage with the pristine white doors and golden trim was a dead woman, one he had never met, but had heard was lovely and gentle and too young to die so suddenly. He could not grieve her, but it was a strange feeling nonetheless. As the procession passed, she was so close, and yet locked away forever. An older woman near the front of the crowd let out a wail that startled him, while another lady sobbed behind her folding fan. The flower she threw was crushed under a carriage wheel.

Despite everything that had happened in the past few years, he had somehow still believed in a world that was right, where good people were rewarded, and all would be well if one only persevered, though he had never put this feeling into words. Perhaps that was why he had not merely watched for a moment and then left, as some of the other boys had done. The situation nagged at some unspoken corner of his mind, tugging away the last of that blind innocence, and so, he found himself following, cutting through alleys and side-streets, unable to simply take a last glimpse of the procession and be satisfied. He finally stopped just before the bridge that led to the castle proper.

On the far side of the bridge, he could see a man he realized must be the king, tall and broad with a flowing beard and a grave expression. The sun caught the heavy gold crown on his head, and the metallic embroidery in the dark cape that he wore. By his side stood a small girl, her face pale and her gaze fixed on her own clasped hands, fingers twisting and worrying at the fabric of her gloves. An awe filled him at seeing a real princess, just as he had been promised so long ago, but his chest tightened at the sight of her. As fine as her clothing was, she carried no semblance of supernatural grace or wisdom. Under the circumstances, she simply looked lost. For the first time in a long while, his thoughts turned to his own mother, wondering if she still lived alone in the wilds, if he would ever return there. The castle filled him with a sudden sickness, as if he had lingered too long.

The King said something to the guard next to him, and the guard nodded in response. The girl reached out for her father’s hand, but he was already turning away, his eyes fixed on those that he did not have to look down to see.  For a moment, the girl stared out over the castle moat, before quietly following her father and the guards. Only when she was out of sight did Link begin to make his own way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey a positive interaction with another human! Link has at least one friend! Not everything is terrible!
> 
> I'm trying to not make this fic unrelentingly bleak (hey, at least we're getting to Mipha soon). Despite everything, Link is resilient and optimistic to the core, and that combined with his circumstances shapes the young adult he will become by BoTW.
> 
> (Also he just balls-out tried to stab a guy more than twice his size and waaay more experienced. This is entirely the same kid who is going to mount a Silver Lynel for the hell of it someday.)


	4. Chapter 4

Morning sun, white and blinding, reflected off the waters and carved stone of Zora’s Domain. He had been awake since the first hint of pink from behind the mountains, yet another day of training. His only consolation was in the beauty of his surroundings.

The punishment he had expected had not come, but perhaps the stiff terror he had existed in for the entire week had been the punishment in itself. The Captain had not been kind to him, but neither had he been particularly cruel. He had been distant and formal with Link in a way that made the latter terrified of when the boot was going to come down on him.

It became clearer when they arrived at the Zora’s Domain. As harsh as the training the Royal Guard cadets were subjected to was, Talin and the other tutors had been holding back. A privilege Link no longer received. Cutting the Captain’s overcoat had been a pyrrhic victory indeed. He had shown  _ talent, _ and it had awakened a fierce ambition in his teacher. The man was no longer content to let him rest at the level of the other students. 

He was pressing his grazed and blistered hands into the stone, heaving himself up onto his knees again, when there was the soft pad of feet landing nimbly on the stone. He looked up at the vivid red and white legs before him.

"Stop it."

"Your highness, Princess Mipha. I must ask you to lower your weapon."

The tip of the trident she held dipped toward the ground, but otherwise she did not move.

"I answer to the Hyrulean Royal Family. This is not yours to interfere in."

Mipha remained silent.

"Does your father know where you are? What you’re doing with that weapon?"

"My father is the ruler of this Domain, not the Hyruleans. Those who displease us are no longer welcome on our territory."

"That is not an answer to my question, young princess."

Link rose to his feet, muscles aching. The two glanced back at him, Mipha with a hesitant air about her.

"What are you hoping for, Princess Mipha? I do not intend to stop training my student, nor can you stop me. Your father knows who I am and what I do."

Her voice was quiet, but there was steel in it.

"Teach me to fight too."

The Captain shot her a look that was both frustrated and amused.

"I wish to be your personal student, to train with Link. I am sure my father would think it a fine idea."

"A fine idea... until you get hurt. But that’s your game, isn’t it? If I refuse to give you the same training as Link, I will anger your father. If the training is too harsh, I will anger your father. So that leaves me with one option…"

"Yes." She gave a slight tilt of her head, her silver tiara glinting in the sun.

Captain Talin shook his head. “You children would never understand what we are dealing with, the disaster we hope to avert. The suffering of a few matters not, if it saves us all. And on the contrary, mercy given is a despicable weakness, jeopardizing everything just so that we can feel our hands are clean in the here and now. I refuse to tell myself such lies.”

Behind Mipha, Link stood, waiting.

The Zora princess turned to face him, and their eyes met. Her golden eyes were gentle as she looked down at him.

“Princess Mipha,” he mumbled, “You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to,” she said, giving him a bright smile. She reached for his hands, and a pulse of warmth passed between them. New skin welled up within the shredded remains of blisters, leaving only the faintest of pink spots. The weight of fatigue lifted from his shoulders.

“Very well, princess. I will allow you to stay… if you can hold your own against Link…” The captain’s face showed just a hint of a smirk.

“I accept,” said Mipha firmly.

Link stepped backward and assumed a fighting stance, blunt training sword at the ready. Opposite him, Mipha raised her trident.

“And fight!”

There was a hesitancy between the two of them, an awkward moment as they tried to read each other’s intentions. Neither of them wanted to strike, and yet they must. Link privately thought it better for Mipha if she was sent away, but her determination had put him in an uncomfortable position. He wondered if he would be able to hurt her, even for her own sake.

That was, assuming he could win in the first place. She was older and taller than him, and though he had been introduced to the Zora royalty when they arrived, he had never seen her fight. He was confident he could win against any of the boys his age in the Royal Guard, and even those a few years older. But even in her hesitancy, the way Mipha moved was practiced. She was no amateur. He prepared himself, watching her closely.

And so he struck, a slow, telegraphed overhead swing that she blocked effortlessly. She gave him a somewhat withering look as she spun her trident and shoved him backwards with the blunt end. Yet he could tell that her own strike carried only a fraction of the power she was capable of.

“Do not bore me,” warned Captain Talin.

Mipha glanced in the direction of his voice, and Link took that moment to strike again. Her eyes widened, but she deflected his blow. Knocking his sword aside, she feinted a thrust to the head, then made a sweep for his legs when he moved to guard his face. He jumped backward, and as she fully extended, charged in to close range. It was a good opportunity for a stab, but as she wore no armor, he felt it too dangerous even with a training weapon. Instead, he grabbed her right wrist, the one that held the trident, and pulled her further forward, trying to unbalance her. But her extra size and weight proved an advantage. Not only was he unable to pull her off balance, she moved with him, and with a sudden twist, threw him to the ground. He rolled to the side just as the tip of her trident came down next to him, and scrambled to his feet. He swung again, a little too hastily, and she caught the blade between the tines of her trident, wrenching it out of his grip. He watched his sword fall to the ground behind her, and in that instant, her trident was at his throat.

There was slow, deliberate applause from where the captain sat watching.

“Well done. I suppose I have a new student, at least temporarily. Let’s all have fun, shall we?”

He shot a glare at Link.

“That last attack was horseshit. We’re going to start by doing it one hundred times, properly. I’ll decide if each one counts or not. Princess, I’ll show you the spear technique I want you to work on.”

He looked at the position of the sun in the sky.

“We still have a long day ahead of us.”

* * *

 

It was yet another weary evening in the Domain, as he supped on fish and seaweed soup. Mipha was near silent, she had said nothing since healing him after their training that day. Seeing her so worn down, he wished he had been able to win back when they had first dueled, but he knew better than to breathe a word of that in front of her.

The summer was almost over, and the evening brought a strong breeze with it. He glanced up at the clear skies and crystal stars, their dim light giving the Domain an otherworldy glow. On the cliffs around them, he could see patches of luminous stone, like fireflies perched on the rock. There was the everpresent sound of flowing water.

Across the plaza, through the open columns of the throne room, they could hear the murmurings of the Captain and the Zora king. Mipha stared down into her cooling bowl of soup.

“Captain Talin wants me to return with you to the Royal Guard academy in Castle Town…”

“What? Why would he ask that?”

She took a breath and raised her eyes.

“He thinks I have the skill to be a great warrior. The Calamity is coming. My father has also spoken of it. Many skilled fighters will be needed in the days to come…”

“But you’re the  _ princess… _ Surely that’s… Surely your father will oppose it?”

He stared at her.

“ _ I _ won’t oppose it. Princess or not, if I am able to protect my people, then I wish to do so. My life is not worth more than that of others, just because of my lineage.”

Her eyes met his, with that immovable quiet stubbornness.

“And I will be with you,” she finished.

There was nothing to be said after that. It perplexed and frustrated him, the way this girl put herself through hardship for his sake, the fact that he could never do anything to dissuade her. He knew there was something in her mind yet beyond his understanding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic is alive!
> 
> Mipha is roughly equivalent to a 12 year old here, and slow growing enough that she'll only reach her "mid-teens" by the time of the Calamity (which is why she's smaller than the other Zora).
> 
> I thought that Mipha trained with the Hyrulean Royal Guard in canon, but a closer inspection of the in game text made it clear it was the Zora Royal Guard... after I wrote this chapter. So I've been sitting on it for a month meaning to do something else. Then I thought, welp, I did throw out strict canon-compliance in the first chapter, so... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
